Had another date with mr. roboto last night. No need to recount how much fun it was, or how many times I took a nosedive into the Land of Awkward Moments. It was my reaction after he left that really surprised me. He was the same old Mr. Roboto - nice, funny, cuddly, affectionate, but refusing to spend the night and refusing to move this (stagnant) relationship forward. By refusing the latter, I mean won't take my bait and won't bring anything up himself. And although we have a date planned for Saturday (guess who invited whom?), I know after he leaves (because he inevitably won't spend the night) I will once again be thrust into my hated insecure-girl, why-the-fuck-isn't-he-calling mode. And he won't call, because he just won't, until I text him - or whatever.

I digress. The point of this post is that after he left, I became very sad. I mean really sad. On the verge of tears. So sad I had to call my mom and overanalyze things for an hour and a half. Ironically, the last time I felt like that was 5 years ago, after my first date with my husband. It wasn't really a date, since we were friends already. But he drove over 40 minutes just to have coffee with me, and it was the first time both of us were single and not hanging out in a group. We had a great coffee date, and I had such a crush on him, and then he just dropped me off. No hug, no plans, just dropped me off. I felt like somebody punched me in the stomach. Hope and hope and hope, and then same shit as always. Of course, I did marry the guy and then divorce him 4 years late, so either my instinct that night was terribly right or terribly wrong.

Will I ever learn from my mistakes?